Another time, another life
by Darkling
Summary: There is a murder and Hastings's past and present is somehow connected to it. slash, trans


Another time, another life

Warning: slash and a lot more

It's started as a normal they for everybody, well almost for everybody, because there was a young man, who laid dead on the cold floor. It was around 8 o'clock, when his landlady started to get worried, and when he couldn't pen the door, he called the police. When it became obvious that the young men was dead, unfortunately or maybe fortunately Japp got the case. And that is were this story starts.

There was a knock on the door and Ms. Lemon got up to open it. There stood inspector Japp and he had a really troubled face.

"Come in, inspector" said the secretary. Japp came in and get off his hat and clothes.

"I came to speak with Poirot" said the cop.

"Come in Japp" said Poirot from the living room loud enough for him to hear it. When Japp came in he saw that Poirot was sitting behind his desk, and was reading the morning paper, and Hastings stood before the window and was looking at the morning rush.

"Poirot. Hastings" greeted them the inspector.

"Good Morning Japp, what brought you here this morning" asked Hastings.

"Yes, sit down, and do tell us" said Poirot.

"Well, I got a really disturbing case this morning, and would like to ask your help" said Japp. Something is his voice told Poirot, that it wasn't just some petty case, it was something different.

"What happened?" asked the private detective. Hastings joined them and leaned on Poirot's desk.

"There was a murder. A young... man was killed and his body was found this morning" he hesitated a bit before the gender and the other two noticed it.

"What is the problem?" asked Hastings. Without saying a word Japp showed them two pictures. One showed a young man laying on the floor dead, and the other showed the same man in the morgue, but he was nude and they could see his breast and feminine form. They sat silent for a few seconds before Hastings took it upon himself to say something.

"How does the other cops dealing with this?" he asked Japp. The others looked at him perplexed.

"What do you mean?" asked Poirot.

"In the past there were some similar case and the cops didn't do anything. They thought that being man and women in one body is enough reason for them to die and they closed the cases" said Hastings cold.

"That won't happen now" said Japp with conviction.

"Yeah... of course" said Hastings.

"Poirot will solve this murder" said Poirot "and I solve every case." Hastings smiled at him and nodded his head in thanks.

"I haven't heard about cases like this" added Japp looking at the captain.

"Of course not" said Hastings "nobody hears about it who wasn't connected to it somehow" he paused and looked at the photo of the unfortunate man "it was around twenty years ago one of my friend died and the police didn't do anything, we were just young boys maybe nineteen years old and we tried to bring justice ourself" said Hastings.

"You found the killer?" asked Poirot.

"Yes" answered Hastings.

"And what did you do?" asked Japp. Hastings remained silent.

"I don't think that it is relevant to this case" interrupted Poirot. He didn't want to force his friend to admit something incriminating. Japp looked at Hastings silent for a few seconds then turned to Poirot.

"So, would you like to see the crime scene" he asked.

The neighborhood of the flat was a bit run down, a lot of artist lived in this area, who are no longer or not yet in the business.

"The victim was a painter, but not very successful" said Japp "he moved here two years ago, before that he lived in Amsterdam, Prague and Paris. He moved a lot." he added.

"Did he have any family?" asked Poirot.

"No, we couldn't find any family" said Japp.

"What was the cause of the death?" asked Poirot while they went into the flat.

"He was strangled with bare hand" answered Japp. Poirot saw that Hastings trembled.

"Poor man" said Poirot. When they stepped into the room, they saw that it was a studio, a living room and kitchen. There was a lot of unfinished painting and palettes, brushes and paints was everywhere.

"So Poirot, what do you think?" asked Japp.

"I don't know mon ami" answered the detective as he scanned the room with his eyes "maybe Hastings can help us" said suddenly Poirot.

"How?" asked the captain.

"You had a friend like our unfortunate victim. Maybe you see something that we don't" said Poirto.

"I sincerely doubt that" said Hastings, but he looked around the room. He saw the big wardrobe and went to look into it. There was a lot of clothes, but not all of them was men's, there was some skirt, stocking, hat and other woman's clothes.

"He didn't always dressed as a man" said Hastings "maybe somebody recognized him in the other clothes."

"That could be a motivation" said Japp "but how could he dress one time in man's clothes and other time in woman's clothes. I just don't get it."

"Mon ami, there are man's who play woman role in the theater, for him the whole world was a big theater." Poirot said with a sad smile to Japp.

"It's not that simple" said Hating "sometimes they don't have a chance to choose a gender, but sometimes they need both to feel good in their body" he touched some clothes "these are cheap, but in good condition. He cared for them, but didn't have a lot of money."

"You are right" said Poirot,he glanced around the room "i think we need to speak with the landlady" said the detective.

"Come, she lives at the downstairs" said Japp. They knocked on the lady's door, she opened it and her eyes were red from crying.

"Oh, that poor boy, he was so nice and polite, always helping me with groceries" she said.

"Can we ask a fey questions?" asked Japp.

"Of course, come in I have a hot pot of tee." She ushered them into the living room and they all sat down.

"What can you tell me about your tenant?" asked Poirot.

"He was a nice boy, he came here with two luggage and an easel two years ago. He asked if he can rent a room. He was clean and polite so I gave him the room. He had some friend come and go and in the last two months he had someone serious" he said sadly.

"Serious in what way?" asked Japp.

"He was away a lot and he stopped painting" said the woman.

"Was there any strange thing about him?" asked Poirot.

"No... maybe he was very shy and he just invited in a few people. When a curator came here to speak about an exhibition he asked me for the permission to use my living room. I let him, but I couldn't understand it" said the landlady.

"Can you tell us the name of his friends?" asked Poirot.

"He had a small notebook, it has some name, telephone number, and address. I saw it once by chance and he said that the names in there is the name of his most trusted friend."

"Do you know where he kept it?" asked Hastings. Poirot saw that he was a bit pale, but didn't want to comment on it. There was too much strange thing about Hastings during this case, he intended to ask him later.

"In his pocket, he always kept it with him" she said confidently.

Poirot looked at Japp questioningly.

"There was no notebook" said Japp

TBC.

This fic is a bit different, and I don't know why I started it or what will be the end. So if anyone has any idea, or just want to correct something send me a review.


End file.
